


Laugh, I Nearly Died

by kho



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5719237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kho/pseuds/kho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ETA 4 (2/4):  Part 5 up now:  Completed!<br/>ETA 3 (1/31):  Part 4 up now:  Hear My Train a Coming<br/>ETA 2 (1/19): Part 3 up now:  Little Green Bag<br/>ETA (1/17):  Part 2 up now: In a Gadda Da Vida<br/>Part 1:  Laugh, I Nearly Died<br/>He clenches his hands into fists and thinks, down, down, down, you are not hard, it’s been a long day, you’re just confused, this is not happening. Go back downstairs, take a deep breath, and wait for Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Laugh, I Nearly Died

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1: Ever heard the Rolling Stones song Laugh, I Nearly Died? It's very sexy... to me it is anyway: [Listen here](https://youtu.be/ld46tm4k-wI). That inspired this fic. Plot? What plot?

It’s dinner time, that’s what it was. That’s why he came here, to this door. That’s why he opened it. A quick rap of knuckles against Steve’s bedroom door that are drowned out by Rolling Stones, and the words dying on his lips as he opens the door just enough to see Steve standing there, half turned away from the door and stark naked.

That’s not the shocking part, hell if Danny had thought a little harder it would have dawned on him that there was a better chance than not that this is what he’d see. He’d known Steve was taking a shower.

He just meant to tell Steve the steak was done. The salad ready on the table. Beers ready and waiting to be drunk. Steve was notorious for his three minute Navy showers, he should have been done by now. Danny shouldn’t even have to be up here telling him to get his ass down stairs before the steak got cold. 

Except, he’s not. He’s not telling him at all.

The long planes of his back, muscles glistening still wet from the shower. Short hair dripping. Danny’s eye follows a droplet from his neck to his shoulder, down his vertebrae to his ass and Steve is naked, he’s naked and Danny is staring, and his words are caught in his throat.

And his hand, his arm. His hand. He’s.

The low guttural moan crests just over the sound of Jagger’s vocals and Danny’s suddenly hard, hard, so very incredibly hard, hunger and exhaustion forgotten out on the patio where their meal waits on them, beers sweating on the table.

Steve’s head bent forward, his neck long and elegant as he bends forward slightly to lean against the wall in front of him as he strokes his cock, slow and languid, no hurry, no rush, nice and slow. An indulgence. Something you do on a Sunday afternoon before you take another nap, not something you do after you’ve been shot at, winding through the streets chasing after gun runners.

Not something you do while your partner is downstairs grilling steaks. 

Danny stumbles backwards two steps before he stops himself, closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. Calm, he thinks. Calm yourself. Quiet. Ignore. You did not see this. Steve will come down when he’s done.

When he’s done coming.

“Fuck,” breathes Steve from behind the door.

Fuck, Danny thinks. He clenches his hands into fists and thinks, down, down, down, you are not hard, it’s been a long day, you’re just confused, this is not happening. Go back downstairs, take a deep breath, and wait for Steve.

To come.

Holy shit.

“Danny.”

What? What? Holy fucking what the fucking what? Busted, Danny, you’re so busted, you didn’t see anything, play it off, play it off, smile, everything’s good, everything’s fine, normal, status quo, everything’s great… 

“Fuck, Danny, god, _fuck_.”

Oh.

Danny takes those two steps back, peers through the door and sees Steve still stripping his cock, faster now, eyes closed, leaning his head against the wall in front of him, breath shuddering out of him.

Oh.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, keep talking, just keep… I can’t even…”

Danny’s mouth is so dry, so dry, and his hands are shaking as he reaches up to yank on his tie. Choking him. Can’t breathe. So dizzy.

“Don’t even know, can’t even stop talking for just fucking one fucking god damn second, _yes fuck--_ ”

Danny’s hand on his own cock somehow, barely stopping to unzip, just leaning in the door jamb with his shoulder and starting to jerk himself at the same pace, wet and sloppy and so hard and sensitive and overstimulated and on edge and _Steve_ with that ass and those hands and those shoulders.

Steve slams a hand into the wall and his hips rock and he grunts and groans unintelligibly now but Danny thinks he hears his name at least once more and that’s all it takes for him, coming hot and hard, explosions behind his squeezed shut eyes as he bites a lip to keep from crying out even as he hears Steve not being quiet at all in the slightest.

Can’t let him know.

So good, hasn’t come that hard in a long, long time, and he can’t come back to himself just yet, has to lean against the door jamb and breath in through his nose as he watches Steve slow down his strokes as he leans further into the wall like he too is weak in the knees and Danny’s cock jerks once, twice more, and he has to cover his mouth to keep from crying out again at just the sight of Steve wrecked and spent like that, splayed wide open and so vulnerable in front of him.

Steve bends down to pick up his towel and Danny backs up quickly, panicking now, and turns quickly to head into the bathroom. He hears Steve shuffling around in his room as he sits on the toilet breathing trying to calm down.

Still not able to breathe properly three minutes later when Steve knocks.   “Danny, you in there?”

“Yup,” Danny answers because he can see the knob turning and he can’t see Steve just yet. Darts his hand forward to hold the door shut. “Yep, in here.”

“Thought I heard the door shut. Why didn’t you use the one downstairs?”

“Uh. I don’t know, really. I was coming to tell you dinners ready. I was. Gonna tell you that.”

Steve laughs and Danny closes his eyes because somehow now Steve’s laugh sounds like his moans do. “Ya goof. Okay see you down there.”

“Yep,” Danny says, and bends over to catch his breath.   “Just gimme a minute.”

Holy hell.

His hands are still shaking.


	2. In a Godda da Vida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the series that I didn't intend to be a series to begin with? But hey, ya know, I have lots to say it turns out. I've decided this takes place currently in season 6, though no specific spoilers. Still PWP, but with some side feels?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I certainly didn't expect to write a second part the very next day, but I got so many compliments my muse went WEEEEE and then I found In A Gadda Da Vida (baby!) which is moody and the same kind of sexy as Laugh I Nearly Died (I think) and it kind of wrote itself... I'm kind of predicting this story to shake out to be about 5 parts (or so? maybe more?), and please don't expect a part a day, lol, I just got excited! LOL.
> 
> [In a Gadda Da Vida](https://youtu.be/UIVe-rZBcm4)

Its easy enough to think they can just go back to what they’ve always done by the time he wakes up the next morning, swinging his legs over the couch to the floor.   Steve’s thrown a pillow at his head and groused wake the fuck up you sleepyhead and Danny’s hunting for his discarded tee shirt as Steve starts puttering around in the kitchen.

He comes out with two poptarts and shoves one in Danny’s mouth, says, “We’re late,” and trudges back upstairs to get dressed.

Back to normal. Everything’s fine. Just fine.

When he’d made it down to the lanai the night before after that spectacularly unexpected yet electrifying orgasm they’d had – separately and yet shared nonetheless, Danny wasn’t concentrating on that part very deliberately – everything was normal. Good even. Nice. Relaxed.

Steve lounging back in his chair, lazily scratching at his belly and just looking happy, grinning over at Danny and teasing him about taking so long that he’d had to put the steaks back on the pit to warm them back up. The amused twinkle in his eyes made Danny’s brain hiccup and his face flush so he hid it with a big swig of beer that he literally choked on, and Steve pounding on his back was supremely unsexy enough to drag him out of the post-orgasmic fugue he was stuck in and back out into the land of the oh yeah, hey, this is my _partner_ , chill out, Danny.

So they’d drank, had inconsequential conversation about completely innocuous topics, laughed a hell of a lot, got vaguely buzzed, and Danny had passed out on Steve’s couch in the middle of whatever the hell basketball game they’d been not watching while debating who was the better late night talk show host Leno or Letterman. One guess as to who Steve picked: You know it wasn’t Letterman, right?

“Your taste is so predictably lame, you know that don’t you,” Danny had said, laughing and nearly doubling over.   Steve had laughed and swatted Danny’s leg, fingers digging in as he turned it into a horsebite, and Danny had jerked away howling in both pain and laughter because hey, knee, but also, how third grade, Steven, really. Somehow a giggle had turned into a yawn and then he was dozing off and on against Steve’s shoulder until Steve got up to shut off the tv and shuffle on up to bed.

So when he’s blissfully smiling to himself and chattering on about how Steve really needs to be schooled in the subject of having better taste, he is entirely blindsided by the erection he gets when Steve jerks to a stop in front of a turtle in the road so he doesn’t splatter it into a million pieces and says in a choked off voice, “Danny, fuck.”

“Wh,” Danny says, blinking and looking down at Steve’s hand on his chest, hearing Danny fuck, fuck Danny, god, Danny, fuck, over and over in his head and his vision kind of starts to white out. “What the fucking hell, Steve, it’s a turtle!”

Luckily for his sanity Steve puts the Camaro in park and gets out in the middle of traffic, and that this is good for his sanity is the ultimate of ironies is not lost on him, to go pick up the turtle and return him safely and in one turtle-shaped piece to the ocean side of the road. It gives Danny a moment to close his eyes and will his dick to go down. When that doesn’t work, he covers it with the newspaper he keeps in his back seat and pretends to be looking up the winning lottery numbers.

He’s quiet for the rest of the trip, white knuckling the newspaper over his ever so gradually fading hardon, and when Steve asks him if he’s okay he spits out some nonsense about killing Steve if he ever does that again and sends them over the edge of some cliff to save Timmy the god damned Turtle, and Steve’s laugh sends a shiver down his spine and oh.

Oh he is so fucked.

The rest of the day is spent in an insane haze of frustration and panic as every time he gets his body to cooperate with his brain and chill the fuck out, Steve does something else. Chews on his lip. Cocks his hip against a door jamb. Reaches out and clasps his hand around Danny’s neck. Grins that half-cocky half-sweet dorky ass grin that Danny’s pretty sure is only for him.

It’s all so 100% normal, so totally not out of the ordinary at all, and he’s practically hyperventilating with the need to jerk off all day, but every time he thinks maybe he can slip away to run an errand or hell, even go into the damn bathroom, someone’s phone rings and off they go.

At the end of the day he’s pretty sure his blood pressure must be in the 200s and it’s only making him angrier that Steve’s been in the best mood he’s been in in months this entire day. “When did you turn into a cat, and what the fuck kind of canary did you eat, because Jesus, man, could you smile harder,” he grouses at seven as Steve speeds them down the road back to Danny’s house.

Steve grins at him and reaches over and puts a hand around the back of Danny’s neck and squeezes. “Lighten up, partner. I’m just in a good mood, and all of my people are good and intact and in one piece and all is well in the universe of me, and that never happens.”

It hurts, actually, the whiplash he gets going from wanting to glare daggers at Steve one moment to wanting to hug him and ruffle his hair in the next. He smiles back at him.   “It figures you think there’s a universe that revolves specifically around you,” he says, chuckling.

Steve turns the caress of his neck into a swat upside the head and Danny’s head and heart finally settle back into normal as they pull into his driveway.

Then Steve lays his head back against the headrest of the seat and regards Danny with his eyes half closed, happy and blissed and carefree, and Danny’s fingers twitch to reach out and trace the line of his jaw down to where his adams’ apple juts out of his neck, his lips ache to feel the way Steve’s pulse would pump under them if he bit just there where the vein is visible.

“Starving,” he bites out, unbuckling quickly to dart out of the car. “See you later, Steve, gotta find something to eat--”

“Hey,” Steve calls from the drivers side, frowning at him. “Why don’t I go pick up some Chinese? Resevoir Dogs is on TNT tonight, we can eat with chopsticks and watch Michael Madsen chop a dudes ear off.”

Danny pauses, looking at Steve and finding it impossible to say no to the first truly happy face he’s seen on his partner’s face since Catherine left him— _again_ — and nods. “What about the MSG?”

Steve’s grin widens. “I owe you an MSG filled meal, Danno. You love Chinese and I never let us get it."

Danny laughs at that and nods again. “Okay. I. I appreciate that.”

Steve winks at him and gives him the aloha hand signal as he backs out of the driveway and Danny’s dick twitches in his pants.

He’s barely able to shut the door behind him before he’s undoing his pants and plunging a hand in, growling out long and loud as he finally wraps his fingers around it.   A days worth of frustration and the push and pull of being turned on again and again and again mixed with his inability to make any noise last night when he’d been watching Steve as he jerked off alongside him through the door makes him impatient and unusually loud for a solo session.

He leans against the door and closes his eyes and he can see Steve’s ass, follow the line up to his shoulderblades as they work as he moves his hand. Can hear him all over again, the way he breathes, the way he moans, the way he says Danny’s name all breathless and with a hitch.

He pumps harder and faster and isn’t even aware of the way he’s saying Steve’s name over and over, every exhalation his partners name, louder and louder until finally he’s coming, slamming his head against the door hard enough to hurt as he yells out Steve once more and comes and comes and comes.

He fights the urge to slide down the door into a sitting position because his legs are jelly now and he feels like he’s quite literally come his brains out at this point. Instead he kicks off his shoes and his pants and his underwear, rips off his shirt, and strides into the bathroom for a quick shower before Steve gets back.

And thinks to himself, what in the hell am I gonna do about this?


	3. Little Green Bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a complaining complainer who complains.” He waves his hand at the television where Reservoir Dogs is playing. “Mr. Pink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 -- Brought to you by Little Green Bag, because apparently each chapter requires a new song to put me in the right mood, lol. https://youtu.be/gD6KGaQIW04

Steve leans in, shoulder pressing into Danny’s. The couch is long. Long enough that Steve himself, the giant, could stretch out from end to end and sleep comfortably. Yet there he is, squeezed up right next to Danny almost on the same cushion as him, arm stretched behind Danny’s neck, and now… _leaning._

“You are so Mr. Pink.”

Danny frowns, and just like that his arousal turns to annoyance. “Excuse me?”

“Complaining,” Steve whispers. “You’re a complaining complainer who complains.” He waves his hand at the television where Reservoir Dogs is playing. “Mr. Pink.”

Danny turns to face him more fully and grins. “Okay, then you know who you are? Mr. Blonde!”

Steve laughs, crossing his arms. “I have never cut off anyone’s ear.”

Danny drains the last of his beer and stands, pointing at him as he walks backwards to the kitchen to grab two more. “No but you’re so the guy that shot up the jewelry store because you’re a crazy person!”

When he settles back down into the couch it’s a few inches further away from where Steve was, but by the end of the beer there Steve is again, up against him, knee knocking into his as he keeps leaning in to whisper things about the movie.

“Orange is such a jerk.”

“Harvey Keitel is such a badass.”

“Don’t you wish that Samuel L Jackson was in this?”

“The radio guy cracks me up.”

“I fucking love this song. I got my first blowjob to this song.”

Danny coughs up his beer. “You… what? You did what?”

Steve nods, turning his head to grin at Danny. “Little Green Bag will always be special.”

Danny swallows. “Well. My friend. That is.”

Steve laughs, knocking his knee against Danny’s. “TMI?”

Danny nods. “Little bit.”

“So make it even then. When was yours,” Steve asks, and Danny’s turned back to the screen but he can feel Steve’s eyes still looking at the side of his face. “Don’t tell me it wasn’t until college.”

“What? Hell no,” Danny says, glaring at him. “Junior in highschool, movie theater. Heather D’Antonia.”

“Seriously,” Steve says, raising his eyebrows at him. “Your first blowjob was in public?”

Danny shrugs. “No one was in there.” He smiles to himself. “Basic Intinct. I cannot be held responsible for that.”

Steve nods. “Nice. Mine was in the car. I jammed my knee pretty good too,” he says, chuckling again. “Slammed it up against the steering column kinda hard.”

Danny covers his face with his hands, both to hide and to literally scrub the image out of his eyes. “Wow. Okay.” Getting hard fifteen times in one day is actually kind of painful. “Lets just…. Watch the movie, huh,” he says, gesturing towards the television and shifting his leg to cross it over the other one.

Steve’s arm slung across the back of the couch inches up and starts massaging the back of Danny’s neck. He glances over at Steve expecting some kind of smirk, or eye roll, or even a ‘hey, you’re too tense, what’s wrong,’ but instead he just gets Steve’s profile as he concentrates on the movie.

Maybe that’s the worst part because Danny is suddenly filled with longing like he hasn’t felt since Rachel. That Steve’s maybe not even aware that he’s doing it, that he’s just absentmindedly massaging Danny’s neck, working out the kinks and knots that are always there. Because Danny is always stressed, even when he’s not.

Wants to lean his head into the crook of Steve’s armpit, like he’s some sixteen year old girl crushing on the highschool quarterback.

Wants to lean over and kiss the line of Steve’s jaw where that muscle clenches when Steve is angry or worried, chewing his worry and angst like he’s going to swallow it whole.

Wants to thread his fingers through Steve’s hair, even though it’s short and there’s nothing to grab onto. He’s done it before, checking for headwounds, taking out shards of glass, picking out a stray piece of grass or straw or branch from some tumble or chase through the woods.

Wants to do it now just because. Just because he wants to touch. Feel the light tickle. Watch Steve close his eyes and lean into it, maybe lean in and whisper in his ear. Make some crack about something only they get, only the two of them, because there’s so many things that are inside jokes between them that it’s a second language now. Make Steve smile easy and free and run his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and run his tongue up his neck behind his ear, taste the salt and sweat and—

“Danny?”

And he’s not drunk but he feels like he is, he _so_ feels like he is. “Huh?”

Slow easy smile on Steve’s face, yeah, that one, that’s the one he wanted to see. “You’re… staring.”

He glances down to see his hands in his lap and has a crazy moment of wondering when he’d stopped tracing the line of Steve’s ear before he realizes he’d never actually been doing it, only wishing it so. “My neck,” he says, quietly, flicking his eyes back up to Steve. “You’re.”

“Oh,” Steve says, and then his hand is gone, back to laying across the back of the couch. “Sorry, I didn’t even notice I was doing that. You just seem so tense today.”

“Don’t,” Danny says, barely above a whisper. He feels like he’s having a panic attack, the walls closing in on him, vision focusing until it’s a laser point of only Steve’s lips. “Feels… I liked it.”

The touch is tentative at first, fingers ghosting over his shoulder, skimming beneath his soft and comfy tee shirt. Firmer then, thumb digging into the side of Danny’s neck as he moves his hand back to where it had been, fully cupping the back of his neck as his fingers knead into his skin. Danny’s eyes fall closed and he leans his head forward and just the slightest bit of a moan comes out because it’s not a lot, not enough, not anywhere near what he wants it to be, but it’s so good, it feels so good.

His eyes fly open as the hand is gone but he doesn’t have time to react because Steve’s twisting and turning him on the couch, facing him away from him and reaching up to clasp both hands over his shoulders, and he’s always held up the weight of the world with his shoulders. So much pressure, so many things, cases, protecting his team, protecting his baby girl and now boy, Charlie, Grace, and even after all of these years, even after all of this anger and betrayal, still, the weight of needing to make sure Rachel is okay too.

And then Steve’s doing some kind of pressure point, ju jitsu jedi mind trick on him where he’s digging fingers into five different places all at once, all hard lines and stiff joints and it hurts and hurts and hurts until he almost can’t take it anymore until it feels mother fucking amazing.

“Holy shit,” he moans, and he’s literally shaking from it, head swimming like he’s ten margaritas deep into a bender but he’s only had three beers.

“Shh,” Steve whispers against his ear, and when did he get so close, Danny can feel the heat of him against his back as he pushes and pulls Danny, manipulates his spine, soft and hard at the same time, thumbs and knuckles and smooth circles. “Let me.”

“Who’s asking you to stop,” Danny grinds out and it occurs to him then that this is his sex voice, this is exactly what it sounds like when he’s fucking someone, when it’s good, when it’s amazing, when he can’t keep his mouth shut and the words just fall out. When he just can’t help himself. “Never stop, just… there, there, keep.”

And then Steve’s hands delve under his shirt, hot touch radiating up Danny’s back and making him shudder again, head leaning to the side as he rides it out, and his hand reaches out to squeeze into the nearest surface and he doesn’t know it’s Steve’s thigh until he feels Steve breathe out against his shoulder as he squeezes his nails in hard, hard, hard.

“Danny.”

“I saw you,” he says as thumbs dig into his shoulderblades. “Last night, I saw you.   So gorgeous, naked, Steve, it’s ridiculous, I saw you.”

Steve’s fingers still. “You saw me.”

“You said my name,” Danny says, leaning back against Steve, fingers digging in harder into his thigh. “Can’t get it out of my head.”

Danny is suddenly cold as Steve retracts his hands from under his shirt and slides back away from him on the couch. He blinks and looks over at Steve. “You saw me.”

“Hey.”

“So what, you just thought we could have a quick fuck or something?” Steve licks his lips and looks away. “You know what, I should go.”

Danny stares at him, his mouth falling open. Finally he shuts it. “Excuse me?”

“This was what, you tempting me,” Steve asks, swirling a finger between them. “Inviting me to come watch Reservoir Dogs with you, oh, my neck is so sore Steve.”

“Woah,” Danny says, and lets out a derisive snort. “Revisionist history, my friend, you invited _yourself_ and _you started massaging me_ first!” He points at Steve. “And, you, with the flirting, and leaning, and talking about your first blow job, don’t put this shit on me Steven McGarrett, you did this!”

“Okay,” Steve says, nodding shortly and standing. “Then I’m ending it too.”

He’s out of the door before Danny can even say anything else, so Danny grabs up his phone and texts angrily, goofy thumbs and all, even though he’s learned over the years that texts cause more problems then they solve because he’s beyond horny and beyond tired and beyond being reasonable.

_You’re a fucking moron you fucking moron, forget I fucking said anything_

Minutes later his phone beeps with _Look I’m not mad, I’m embarrassed, Danny. Just let me deal. I’ll be okay in the morning._

He snorts to himself. _You’re embarrassed. I’m the one who put it on the line, you just walked out the door._

There is no answering text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's likely 2 more parts to this series before I'm done. Possibly one but I'm thinking 2.


	4. Hear My Train A Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latest bit of what I'm calling "the mutual masturbation turned into something more" fic. Sorry for the long pause between parts, really not trying to leave ya'll hanging, I was just super duper stuck on how to go from where part 3 ended to where I know part 5 will be. And 5 will be the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Jimi Hendrix's [Hear My Train a Coming](https://youtu.be/EX5phFmbrU8?list=PLMKA5kzkfqk2GEImRCIqGqWmQvKYygUhG)

Steve never, ever calls in sick, so when Danny gets in to HQ and Kono tells him Steve’s out with a stomach bug, it feels like a kick to the gut. “What?" 

“Stomach bug,” Kono repeats, raising an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of… Steve doesn’t get sick, he doesn’t call in sick, what kind of stomach bug does he have that he’s called in sick?”

Kono shrugs. “Didn’t ask, Danny, I really don’t need to know which end its coming out.”

He gets into his office and pulls out his phone.

  * _Stomach bug like I should bring you soup and crackers, or stomach bug like you’re a chicken shit?_



He then starts working on catching up on paperwork because without Steve around to distract him he may actually get some work done. It’s an hour before he gets an answering bing.

  * _What did you mean put yourself on the line?_



Danny’s hand aches to call Steve instead of texting back but he knows if he wants answers it’s more likely to happen in text than on the phone or even in person.

  * _I mean I basically told you I want you and you bolted out of my house like your house was on fire._
  * _you didn’t say that_
  * _I most 100% certainly did._
  * _You said you heard me._
  * _I said I heard you, and you said my name, and I can’t get it out of my head. The fuck else do you think that means?_
  * _You want me?_
  * _You fucking moron._
  * _How was I supposed to know?_
  * _I SAID IT_
  * _YOU DIDN’T SAY IT_
  * _Okay maybe not in exact words, but I said it._
  * _I need you to say it._
  * _I said I said it._
  * _Say it, Danny. Say it exactly._
  * _You need me to spell it out for you?_
  * _Say it or drop it and never ever mention it ever again._



Danny glared at his phone for a good minute, sitting back in his chair and thinking.  

  * _this is new for me_
  * _you think this is what old hat for me?_
  * _I want you, Steve._
  * _Way to woo me._
  * _Am I wooing you? Is that what this is? You want me to woo you?_
  * _No, I’m saying Danny, do you want me like actually want me, or are you maybe just fucking lonely?_
  * _As a matter of fact, I have a girlfriend. I’m not lonely._
  * _Then what is this?_
  * _This is me seeing you jerking off and being blindsided by a raging fucking hardon to the point that I jerked off watching you and I’ve pretty much had a fucking boner ever since, I haven’t jerked off this many times since I was a teenager first learning what an orgasm was, Steven, what the fuck do you want to call this? I want you. It’s new, I don’t know what to do with it, but there it is._
  * _This is new for me too._
  * _Why didn’t you come to work?_
  * _Because I couldn’t face you, why the fuck do you think?_
  * _What do you want?_
  * _You saw. You already know._
  * _No, fuck you, you made me spell it out now I’m making you._
  * _You know what I want._
  * _Chicken soup? Crackers? Pepto bismal?_
  * _Stop fucking around._
  * _Say it._
  * _You already know._  



Danny throws his phone down and closes his eyes, heart racing a mile a minute. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know why he’s pushing this. All he knows is he’s hard, again, and he needs Steve to fucking _say it_ this time, and if he can’t then he needs to go ahead and get the fuck over it.

Kono pokes her head into his office. “Hey, got a second?”

Danny smiles softly. “For you, always.”

Kono comes in and trails her fingers along Danny’s desk, picking up his picture of Charlie and Grace and looking at it, fingers tracing the etchings in the silver of the frame. She sets it back down and sits down in the seat across from him, slouching in the chair and knocking her feet up on his desk. Leaning her head back she closes her eyes.

“Kono?”

“You ever just think, fuck it,” she asks, not opening her eyes. “Just think, ya know. Why is this my life? This isn’t what it was supposed to be.”

He laughs softly. “Nah. I never think that. I always as a kid thought I’d be a divorced forty year old with two kids, one of which I thought was another mans for the first three years of his life, and a partner that risks both of our lives every day of the week and twice on Saturdays.”

She opens her eyes and grins back at him. “Do you know what I was gonna be? I was gonna be a pro surfer. Do you know what that life is? Wind and sun and sea, all day every day. I was gonna marry some greek god type guy with a huge heart and a great smile and blonde hair.”

Danny grins. “Your type is blondes?”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “You had your shot, Williams.”

He laughs, but it dies in his throat when his phone finally bings again.

  * _You, ok. You._



He rips his eyes off of his phone and looks back at Kono. “Sometimes fate doesn’t give a shit what your plans are.”

“Fate's a motherfucker,” Kono says on a sigh, reaching up and rubbing at her face. “I want my beach bum life back sometimes.”

“I find it hard to imagine you ever being a bum.”

Kono grins. “Okay don’t get me wrong, I was a bad bitch okay, but I just mean.” She shrugs. “Pro surfer Kono’s husband isn’t in jail for murder. He’s not the son of a dead Yakuza boss. Pro surfer me doesn’t get shot at on a daily basis and I get to be happy and lazy and smoke pot and surf all day and my biggest worry was if I was losing my edge because I was getting older.”

Danny looks at her. “You expect me to believe you don’t still smoke pot every once in a while?”

She meets his gaze. “You’re welcome to join.”

He laughs. “Are you kidding me, you don’t think I’m paranoid enough as it is?”

She laughs back. “Yeah, it figures you’d be the anxious type on pot. Everybody else it relaxes but you’re the guy in the corner freaking out about the walls closing in on you." 

He shrugs.   “Sometimes they are!”

She flops her head back again and closes her eyes.   “I don’t know why I came in here.”

Danny shrugs. “Because we’re all a bunch of sad sacks and we need to commiserate sometimes?”

She laughs. “Thing is, if I talk to Chin he stumbles all over himself trying to cheer me up, and if I tried to talk to Steve well he just.”

“Wants to fix it.”

She nods. “Like he’s gonna fall on a sword if that’ll make it better, and I just. Sometimes I just need someone to just shut up and let me vent.” She looks at him. “You’re the only one that just listens and doesn’t try to fix or do anything.   You just listen.”

“You’re reaping the benefits of having two sisters kick my ass up and down, will you just shut up and let me yell at you, Daniel?!”

His phone bings again. 

  * _I need to spell it out more? I want you. All the time. I want you all the time, Danny._
  * _It’s new but it won’t stop and I can’t stop thinking about it and I wish to god I could okay? But I can’t._



He turn his phone face down and looks up to concerned eyes. “Sorry.”

“Everything ok, Danny? You seem really tired.”

He shrugs. “What else is new?”

“Yeah, but you seem really sad, Danny,” she says softly. “And Steve never calls in sick, and he called me but not you.”

Danny scrubs at his face as his phone beeps again. “You’re maybe a little overly perceptive, Kono.”

“I’m just saying,” Kono says, shrugging and tilting her head. “I noticed. If you want to talk.”

“I’m working on it,” he says, reaching over and pinching her foot. “Now get your feet off my desk, I gotta answer Steve before he murders my data plan.”

“Drinks,” Kono says, standing up. “All of us, family style. It’s been too long. We need to go out and forget all the bullshit every day stuff and just have drinks.”

Danny nods. “That sounds amazing.”

Kono nods. “Tell Steve to get over his stomach bug and we’ll have drinks okay?”

He nods back and she leaves.

  * _I didn’t mean to leave you hanging, Kono was in here_
  * _She okay?_
  * _She’s gonna be fine. She’ll be better than us. I don’t know how she does it. She says get over your stomach bug so we can all have drinks._
  * _That sounds amazing._
  * _Exactly what I said._
  * _Tell her I said tomorrow._
  * _I’m coming over._
  * _I’ll be there tomorrow, Danny. I’ll be over my issues by then._
  * _I’m coming over now. I’m picking up my keys and walking down to my car. Shut up and deal._
  * _I really don’t want to talk about it anymore._



Danny dangles his keys at Kono as he walks through the bullpen and she raises a hand to wave goodbye.

  * _Who said I was interested in talking?_




	5. Somebody to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s truck is parked at a weird angle when Danny gets to his house, cockeyed and not pulled up as far as it normally is. Steve tends to be anal about parking in the same spot in the same way, Danny’s contemplated before making chalk outlines around the tires just to see if they lined up perfectly every time.
> 
>  
> 
> (Chapter brought to you by Jefferson Airplane's Somebody to Love.)
> 
> complete now!

Steve’s truck is parked at a weird angle when Danny gets to his house, cockeyed and not pulled up as far as it normally is. Steve tends to be anal about parking in the same spot in the same way, Danny’s contemplated before making chalk outlines around the tires just to see if they lined up perfectly every time.

He walks in and Steve is standing there with his arms crossed looking like he’s trying to figure out the worlds most difficult math problem, and Danny would ask if he’s been standing there like this the whole time waiting except for he doesn’t need to because of course he has.

“Hey,” Danny says.

Steve swallows. “Hey.”

“I brought soup,” Danny says, lifting the brown paper sack that the chicken soup and crackers are in.

Steve rolls his eyes up to look at the ceiling. “Not actually sick.”

Danny looks at him. Steve’s shoulders are stiff, his jaw clenched, breathing even in a way that’s wholly unnatural. Danny spares one second to think to himself, ‘ _What the fuck am I doing?_ ’ before bending down to gently place the bag with the soup and the crackers on the floor, dropping his keys there as well.

He walks up to Steve and grabs his arm, turning him towards the stairs, and walks him like he’s a perp, pushing and shoving as Steve struggles to stop him and face him. “Danny.” He gets to the bottom of the stairs and has to shove Steve forward three times before Steve finally lifts his foot to put it on the first step. “Danny, come on, what are you--”

“No talking,” Danny grits out, pushing and shoving Steve slowly up the stairs until Steve finally relents and starts walking up them of his own accord. Danny keeps his hands on him, one on Steve’s arm and the other on the small of his back, just in case Steve tries to do some sort of ninja attack move and sneak past him to go back downstairs or some shit.

“But, Danny, the soup.”

Danny rolls his eyes and steers Steve to his bedroom. “What did I say, talking, no, stop it, stop talking, I’m not talking, we’re not talking, I’m not interested in talking any more.”

“That’s a lot of words for not talking, Danny, just saying,” Steve says, and it’s the first semblance of a smile since Danny walked in the door and it makes all the what the fuck am I doing disappear from his blood.

He pushes Steve into his bedroom and kicks the door closed behind him because they’re alone, no one else is here, but it’s habit to want to close off the world, because all he wants is this, them, just Steve and him, that’s it. Nothing else.

“Danny.”

“Why are you dressed for work,” Danny asks, taking in the dark blue button up and black cargo pants. It’s almost uniform, something Steve wears all the time, but he looks so handsome, so good and himself, just so _Steve_. There is no what the fuck anymore at all.

Steve’s arms are crossed again and his eyes are drifting down Danny’s body and it makes Danny’s heart skip a beat. “Because I was planning on going to work until the second I tried to leave to go to my truck and couldn’t.”

Danny kicks off his shoes and walks forward, grabbing Steve’s biceps in his hands, squeezing. “Would you relax already,” he says softly as Steve stiffens.

Steve’s breathing heavier than he needs to and his eyes are wild as he looks back into Danny’s eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Danny says, stepping closer. “Stop.”

Steve licks his lips. “Stop what?”

“Thinking,” Danny says, and lets his hand travel down Steve’s chest. The shirt is soft and well worn and Danny curls his fingers in it and pulls Steve forward.   “One word. I want a one word answer.”

Steve swallows, his eyes on Danny’s lips. “What’s the question.”

“You know the question,” Danny says quietly, waiting for Steve to look him in the eye. “Yes or no.”

“Danny.”

Danny closes his eyes and tightens his grip on Steve’s shirt. “Listen, I know I said one word, but the word is supposed to be yes or no, not my fucking name.”

“Danny, just,” Steve says, his arms finally uncrossing and coming to rest on Danny’s hips, pulling him forward. “Yes, I said yes, I already said yes.”

Steve tastes like toothpaste and coffee and Danny wants to drink him down and he’s only just begun but already his head is spinning and he can’t breathe and doesn’t want to because Steve’s hands are on his ass pulling him in tight and his tongue is against Danny’s and he’s making this sound that means yes and God and Danny and fuck and it’s perfect.

“Danny,” Steve breathes against his lips, and then he’s holding Danny’s head in his hands and kissing him so slowly, slow slow slow like molasses, slow like a lazy Sunday morning, like they have all the time in the world, and this is why he kicked the door shut in an already empty house, because he wants this, just this, all of this.

And suddenly Danny has to break away because he just can’t. He can’t breathe. His heart hurts and he can’t breathe and his hands are shaking and he fists Steve’s shirt into his hands and holds on because for just a second here he’s pretty sure he can’t stand. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You okay?”

“No,” Danny says, looking up and meeting Steve’s eyes. “Yes, I mean, I don’t.”

It feels like a panic attack, and panic isn’t anything new to Danny, Danny’s had panic attacks his whole life. The walls closing in around him and he can’t breathe and the world stops and everything pulses. Steve pulses.  He rests his head on Steve’s shoulder and breathes him in, smelling laundry detergent and soap and deodorant. It feels like a panic attack but it’s not.

“Sorry,” he says, taking another deep breath of Tide and Dial and Speedstick. “The Earth kind of shifted on me there and I wasn’t expecting it.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Did you literally just say I rocked your world?”

“No, you fucking,” Danny yells, swatting at Steve and leaning back. “I’m saying I came over here and I expected to kiss you and maybe, hopefully, have sex with you, not have a realization that the rest of my life was going to be irrevocably changed.”

Steve frowns at him. “What?”

“Shut up I’m trying to adjust,” Danny says, leaning forward to kiss Steve again. So much taller than Danny, but somehow perfect, the fit is perfect, it’s amazing, how did he never know, this is what he wants to know. “Take your shirt off.”

Danny starts unbuttoning his own shirt, taking a step back to watch Steve unbutton his.

“Danny it’s not too late,” Steve says, moving from one button to the next at an excruciatingly slow pace. “We can stop this. We can talk about this, or if you need time to think.”

“Shut up, if you don’t get naked right now I’ll kill you,” Danny growls, unbuttoning his slacks and kicking them off, bending over to pull his socks off. “I know you think I’m panicking, and I am, but it’s not for the reason you think.”

Steve grins at him, shirt finally open and hanging off his shoulders as he shrugs out of it. “If I don’t get naked you’ll _kill me_?”

“Dead, deceased, buried,” Danny says, stalking forward to yank on Steve’s pants, unbuttoning and unzipping and pulling them down. “What’s taking so long, Jesus.”

“Why are you panicking,” Steve asks, reaching out to put his hands on Danny’s shoulders. “I’m not stopping us, I’m just asking.”

“I just.” Danny takes a deep breath. “I’m just suddenly getting why you bolted last night.” He looks up at Steve and shakes his head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t understand. I didn’t get it.”

Steve cocks his head to the side. “I’m confused.”

“Because I didn’t know what this was,” Danny says, pointing a finger in Steve’s chest. “I didn’t know this was what I was walking into. Three days ago you were just Steve, today you’re fucking everything.” Danny swallows. “I’m just having to process is all.”

Steve steps forward, pulling Danny closer. “Everything?”

Danny nods and this time it’s Steve that kisses him, one hand cupping the back of Danny’s head as the other arm reaches around him to hold him tight against him as he backs them up to the bed. Steve’s chest is hot and tight, toned and amazing against Danny’s skin. They crawl together onto the bed, never breaking the kiss, and Steve rolls them so he’s on top as he lays down on Danny and lazily tangles his tongue with Danny’s as Danny’s head spins and his heart breaks and shatters into a million pieces only to reform into something completely new and somehow even better that it was before.

Steve’s dick against his as their tongues wind together is amazing and he crooks a leg up so he can buck up into Steve, get better friction, more contact, wants more, needs more, now. He slides his hands down Steve’s back to his ass, pulling down, more contact, more heat, more everything.

“You saw me,” Steve pulls back to say, still moving his hips, so good, so hard to concentrate on anything but where they’re touching. “Danny…”

“Yeah, saw you, so beautiful, so fucking hot Steve, wanted you, wanted to come in here and turn you around and shove you against the dresser and just fucking take you,” Danny says, because once he gets started talking he doesn’t stop. “Can’t stop thinking about you, naked like that, your ass, Steve, your cock, your hand, just, can’t, I can’t--”

He breaks off in a long moan as he comes, shaking and shuddering as Steve jerks on top of him a few more times before falling with him, the taste of Steve’s tongue as he kisses him again the only thing keeping Danny’s words from continuing to spill out.

“Okay,” Steve says, and then flops over to the side, throwing a hand over his eyes. “Yep.”

“Yeah,” Danny asks, raising an eyebrow. “Yep what?”

“I was right,” Steve says, grinning. “You never shut up.”

Danny glowers at him.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Steve says, and then he winks and swats Danny’s thigh.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr here under [@lovethesnark](http://lovethesnark.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Fanfiction Website  
> MOST of my fic is not on AO3, though all of my H5O and beyond is as AO3 didn't exist yet and it was too much to archive. It can be found on my website at [LoveTheSnark.com](http://www.lovethesnark.com).


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